Using the definition of the AASL, 'school librarians' are going extinct. Like those faced by typesetters, milkmen and Edsel dealers, trends are occurring outside of our control, wishes or best interests. Technology and information, long since uncoupled from our shelves, have gone from our sole source control. Add a good dose of blithe self-justification and insularity from reality and you have a recipe for obsolescence. We are in the midst of a tipping point in our profession. And to mix my metaphors and references, two roads diverged in a wood. The path we take and therefore the trajectory of our future lies starkly in front of us. We can no longer ignore the layoffs and the news stories. We must remake our jobs, programs and spaces and retake our role as the teacher everybody loved and needed for a good read, good information and a safe space to think, meet and share.
This is not a discussion about survival or preserving a profession that somehow deserves to be saved. It's about change. Embracing change. Defining change. Changing attitudes. Changing habits of mind and habits of profession. Changing our profession, programs and places so that they provide schools and communities with what they need today, not what they needed the last century. If we continue doing business as usual, our business will close. This is a discussion about the radical restructuring that needs to take place. I promise provocation. And I invite you to take up a flaming outdated National Geographic and give it a toss. All I ask is that you engage rather than just react. In the end, I hope that we can exchange some good ideas that will make the programs and spaces formerly known as school library more exciting, relevant and useful to an education system that needs us more than they realize.
Seen a travel agent lately?
Using the definition of the AASL, 'school librarians' are going extinct. Like those faced by typesetters, milkmen and Edsel dealers, trends are occurring outside of our control, wishes or best interests. Technology and information, long since uncoupled from our shelves, have gone from our sole source control. Add a good dose of blithe self-justification and insularity from reality and you have a recipe for obsolescence. We are in the midst of a tipping point in our profession. And to mix my metaphors and references, two roads diverged in a wood. The path we take and therefore the trajectory of our future lies starkly in front of us. We can no longer ignore the layoffs and the news stories. We must remake our jobs, programs and spaces and retake our role as the teacher everybody loved and needed for a good read, good information and a safe space to think, meet and share.
This is not a discussion about survival or preserving a profession that somehow deserves to be saved. It's about change. Embracing change. Defining change. Changing attitudes. Changing habits of mind and habits of profession. Changing our profession, programs and places so that they provide schools and communities with what they need today, not what they needed the last century. If we continue doing business as usual, our business will close. This is a discussion about the radical restructuring that needs to take place. I promise provocation. And I invite you to take up a flaming outdated National Geographic and give it a toss. All I ask is that you engage rather than just react. In the end, I hope that we can exchange some good ideas that will make the programs and spaces formerly known as school library more exciting, relevant and useful to an education system that needs us more than they realize.